Arkham FFDCU
by theamerican91
Summary: A series of oneshots introducing Batman's most colorful rogues in the FFDCU.  Ch 1: "It's Just Business" starring the Penguin.


**This is a series of oneshots introducing the new versions of Batman's rogues in the FFDCU. These stories take place roughly after six months from the end of the Batman Origins Trilogy that I have started writing. Although I hint to events that have occurred in the trilogy that I have not published yet, I have still kept it vague enough to not spoil everything. This is more of going into the past and origins of Batman's villains without slowing the pace of the trilogy that I am writing so it is good to read if you want to understand the motivations and background to these colorful villains. I do not own these characters or plotlines that are the property of DC and Warner Bros.**

It was raining when the small plane landed on the airstrip. Oswald Cobblepot was reading over some papers at the time so he did not notice at first the plane had stopped moving. When he finally did, he took one look outside the mist covered window and sighed.

So this was Gotham. It was more depressing than he imagined and he was only on the outskirts. Perfect.

The plane door opened and the ladder opened down. The rain was pouring pretty hard. Good thing he brought an umbrella.

The limo driver who had been waiting for his arrival began to run up the stairs of the plane. The driver reached the entrance when he introduced himself to Oswald.

"Welcome to Gotham, Mr. Cobblepot," the man said as he attempted to step inside.

"Don't step on the rug, its Persian!" the businessman ordered as he began to gather his things into his brief case.

The limo driver looked embarrassed.

"Uh yes, of course sir."

"Has the rest of my luggage arrived?"

"Yes, came in last night," the driver explained.

Oswald pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke as he put on his hat and gloves. He opened his umbrella and after grabbing his briefcase, past the driver and made his way off the plane to the limo waiting for him.

"Uh sir," the limo driver called out, chasing after his passenger. "It is against company policy to smoke in the-um-limos…"

Oswald looked at the man with a scowl. Even though Oswald was shorter than the driver, something about his presence was enough to intimidate the young man to stop talking.

"Uh..but I guess we can make an exception for you sir…" the driver said nervously and opened the door.

Oswald stepped inside and took off his hat and closed his umbrella. His umbrella was already soaked and he was only outside for thirty seconds. It was pouring hard down there. The driver got into his seat and started the limo.

"I trust they gave you the destination?" Oswald asked as he opened his briefcase to resume looking over the reports.

"Uh yes sir! We will go there before the hotel!"

"Good. I like to work in privacy. Do not interrupt me until we are there," Oswald said before rolling up the tinted window, isolating himself from his driver.

Sighing Oswald began to flip through the limo's music player. They stocked it with all his requests. Vivaldi, Schuman, Beethoven, Mozart, and the rest of the classics.

He decided to play Mozart's _The Magic Flute_. He was in the mood for some opera.

Listening to the soothing voices of the singers he began to read the report that he started looking over on the plane. One of his German smuggling operations was busted in a sting operation by Interpol. Of course they would never tie it back to him, but still, some of his men had let their guard down. That could not be tolerated. He could not afford failure. He would make sure to have them made an example of when he arrived at the hotel and made a few calls.

A ringing began to interrupt the opera solo. Cursing under his breath he pulled out his phone. With a grunt of annoyance he accepted the call as he turned down the music.

"What is it Christophe?"

"Sir! We have been with Matson for two hours! He's not cooperating. I do not think we can-"

"Christophe! I do not care what you have to do but get it done! Is that going to be a problem?"

Oswald heard Christophe pause and swallow on the other line.

"No sir."

"Then get it done!" Oswald ordered. Before he hanged up he was sure he could hear Matson screaming in the background. Matson would eventually break, just like all those who stood in the Penguin's way.

When the Penguin wanted something, he got it.

Being a little flustered by the lack of results his men were getting from Matson, Oswald decided he was no mood to read any more reports and decided to see if he could rest a little.

Looking out the window, the grey weather reminded him of the place where his aunt lived. God he hated it there.

Oswald was the heir to the Cobblepot fortune, one of the richest families in London. The Cobblepots had been in the city since the Industrial Revolution, establishing their influence and prestige for 200 years.

Of course maintaining prestige also meant keeping up appearances, and unfortunately Oswald failed that as a child.

He was born with a disfigurement. A long nose and webbed skin between two pairs of fingers on each hand. He was also stricken with a short structure and weak physique. Needless to say, he was picked on by all his classmates in grammar school.

His parents were ashamed of their son. They felt a Cobblepot was supposed to be well endowed with good looks, not be some freak. When he got beat up one day by some bullies, his parents blamed him for it and used it as an excuse to send him to live with his cruel aunt in the country. They did not like having a freakish looking son around.

How he hated his aunt when he lived with her. She lived in this small town up north. She was always paranoid and cruel to him. Not only did she make him do all these chores in her house without paying him, she would sometimes forget to feed him and was particularly fond of beating and humiliating him.

The only time she showed "care" for her nephew was giving him an umbrella so he would not catch a cold, even when it was sunny. Or so she said. Oswald always had a feeling she made him carry an umbrella with him at all times so he could hide his ugly appearance from the public.

It was a miracle he survived that miserable summer. If it was not for the pet store he probably would have ran away. In his aunt's town, there was a small pet store owned by an Australian man. The owner was kind enough to allow Oswald to help around the store. Pretty soon, Oswald for the first time in his life almost felt happy; mainly because he loved to take care of all the birds. Oswald had always had a thing for birds, probably because he was often made fun of for his bird like appearance.

However fate must have sensed he was finally feeling safe and secure and decided to torture him once more. A street gang of arsonists burnt down the pet shop one day. The motives were never really clear, but it did not manner. The shop was burnt to the ground killing all the animals, including every single bird.

Oswald had tried to rush into the inferno to save some but was held back by the police. He just sat there helplessly as he watched the only thing he loved in his life go up in flames. And it was there he finally understood the point of life. People only respect power.

Power was the means to get everything. And the best way to exercise power was crime. He also vowed that he would bring "gentlemen" back to crime. No more street gangs terrorizing people.

After he returned to London as a teenager, his parents made him see a plastic surgeon to get rid of the extra skin between his fingers and to shorten his nose. But that was not only thing that changed for Oswald.

Oswald had become more conscious about his health and began to work out while at the same time he hit a growth spurt. By the time he was a legal adult, he may have still been a few heads below the average height but he was no longer the obese awkward looking child. He was now a healthy, stocky, and ambitious man.

His ambition took him to an American university to study business. While in America he began establishing connections with many people who like him were part of some business dynasty. Connections were everything. By the time he finished business school, a good portion of the heirs to major American companies owed him a favor. When Oswald returned to London, he forced his own father to step down from his company while simultaneously taking control of it by allying himself with some of his father's fellow board members.

By the time he was 25, he owned one of the largest companies in the UK. But that was not the end of Oswald's rise to power.

Using his connections and wealth, he began to find his influence in many different criminal organizations. His first victory came when he ordered the death of the head of a large illegal arms smuggling gang in order to take control of the gang himself. The deceased head of the smuggling ring went by the alias known as the Penguin. Oswald loved the nickname so much he decided to take up the title as his own alias. Conducting his shady business dealings under the persona of the Penguin made it harder for Interpol to connect Oswald to his crimes.

After ten years of financing, trading, and doing business with many criminal and terrorist organizations, Oswald had not only tripled his wealth, but extended his influence across Europe. Not only did he have some influence in Parliament but within the French and German government as well.

No one dared stood in his way. When Cobblepot wanted something, people knew to give it to him in hopes they would be rewarded by siding with such a powerful and rich man. If the Penguin wanted something, people would give it to him in hopes he would spare their lies.

Although not many people made the connection between Oswald and the Penguin, the name Penguin had become feared across the European criminal underworld. In fact the Penguin moniker had become an urban legend that varied from a vicious monster living in the sewers to a shadowy organization being around for centuries. And that was all Oswald's reputation needed. In the criminal world, reputation was everything.

And Oswald had a good reputation as the Penguin. He was already notorious for making sure to punish his enemies and his vicious business streak but he was also considered the "gentleman of crime" by some. Oswald did take pride in that one of the things he was well known for was his honesty. Not only he would keep his word of a bargain, he would also be polite enough to let people know when he planned to have them killed. However, he left the killing to his underlings. Many deaths may have occurred because of him, but Oswald never personally killed someone.

It was not that he had some moral code against killing; he just did not like to get his hands dirty.

"Mr. Cobblepot sir! We're here!" the driver had announced, interrupting the businessman's reverie.

Oswald groaned as his body creaked. He was past forty and even though he was still in great shape, his body was starting to age. The driver got out and opened the door at their destination.

Oswald got out and looked at the place they had arrived. They were outside a gothic looking building. It looked like a giant cathedral except without the stain glass windows and sense of holiness.

So this was Arkham Asylum. A fine place for Nygma to get himself locked in.

"Wait here," Oswald ordered to the driver and went inside. He had to make a business call. Already he had bribed the right amount of people to make sure the video feeds would be erased once he left. Also there was a guarantee that the written record of his visit would mysteriously disappear. Oswald was always good at covering up his tracks.

Dr. Arkham escorted the Englishman along the asylum. It stunk so badly. Oswald could smell mildew. He quietly pulled out a handkerchief along the way to cover his mouth. Far be it for him to get sick because one of his employees got locked up here.

Finally the Doctor left Oswald at a door.

"You have five minutes," he whispered.

Oswald nodded and entered. From what he could tell this was the main attraction of the mentally unstable in Gotham. He passed by one cell that housed a man who was cutting tally marks on his body. Another cell contained a man with white skin and green hair laughing manically. He looked like a demented clown.

Pausing, Oswald stopped to look at the laughing man. Was this the legendary Joker that had terrorized the city a few years ago? He seemed harmless and pitiful. How could this insane man cause so much trouble?

"Hey! Don't you know you're not supposed to bring an umbrella here baldy?" the clown man mocked, referring to Oswald's thinning hair. Oswald just gave the clown a look of disgust and went to the cell next door.

The occupant in the cell was lying on his bed reading a cheap crime novel. How low Nygma had fallen.

Oswald began rapping on the fifteen inch thick glass wall with his umbrella. That got Nygma's attention.

Nygma slowly got off the bed and walked toward the glass so he could talk. To Oswald, Nygma seemed a little bored.

"What did you do this time Edward?"

Nygma just looked and shrugged.

Angry at the slight towards him, Oswald raised his voice.

"What the hell were you doing? You were supposed to take out Thorne and the rest of the mob heads, not go after a nut in a costume!"

Nygma just shook his head.

"I'm sorry but I realized it was more interesting to go after Batman than waste my talents on a bunch of old crime bosses. Especially when half of them are already in prison."

"Waste your time? I was paying you! You were supposed to buy out Wayne Enterprises and the rest of the companies here while simultaneously killing off the old crime families! You were supposed to pave the way for my arrival here!"

Nygma gave an apathetic look.

"From the looks of it, you made it here just fine."

Oswald felt his temper rise even more. He was not going to tolerate any disrespect. Especially from Nygma.

"You better watch yourself Nygma. You exposed yourself to the world for what you really are. You don't have much power or influence anymore. I may be one of the only people who can still help you, but I might not if you don't watch your tone with me," Oswald whispered threateningly.

Nygma finally gave a cold smile. Oswald never saw him smile like that before.

"I don't need it anymore _Penguin_," Nygma replied, adding emphasis on the last word. "I have resigned from your employment. I have found more interesting things to worry about right now."

Oswald was a little taken aback by that revelation. No one walked away from him, ever.

"One day you may need my help again, but I will not give it to you. Do not get in my way Nygma, or I will end you. Especially if you ever call me that name in public," Oswald threatened venomously.

Nygma still showed no signs of reaction but his atypical stare before replying to Oswald's threat.

"I don't care what you do. I know you are here because you think your presence will allow you to finally establish control over this city. Well let me warn you, _boss_. Gotham doesn't belong to anyone. It is a battleground for a personal war between Batman and crime. You might find yourselves dealing more than you bargained for."

For the first time Oswald smiled.

"Well that explains why you and I are on opposite sides of the glass right now. I don't view things personal like you do. It's just business," Oswald retorted and turned around to leave. He was done here. He got his message across. As long as Nygma stayed out of his way and kept his Penguin identity secret, he would leave him alone. Finally Oswald had exited the asylum and back to his limo.

The driver once again opened the door for him.

"Sir may I ask what that was about?" the driver asked curiously with caution.

"Just cancelling a business deal," Oswald replied nonchalantly as the door shut.


End file.
